


Sick

by SheWritesDirty



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Billy Hargrove Being Gross, Billy Hargrove Being an Asshole, Humiliation, M/M, Unnegotiated Kink, Watersports, pisskink, spit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:33:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29011344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheWritesDirty/pseuds/SheWritesDirty
Summary: Billy can't quite let himself take what he wants from Steve Harrington... not really. But at least he can humiliate him, drag him into the dirt and leave him there, make him feel as low as Billy does... every single time he wants something he isn't supposed to want.At least, he can do that.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 14
Kudos: 52





	Sick

**Author's Note:**

> I have nothing to say for myself. I've been wanting to write this for like. Half a year.
> 
> (I think this is the shortest thing i've posted in ages... or ever)

Billy was drunk, or something like it. He’d been downing beer after beer the entire night, with Tommy passing a new can into his hand every time he’d finished off the last one. He felt a little numb, a little floaty, and a little like he had to take a piss. But he was still all there, still completely fucking aware of how annoying his pathetic excuse for a friend was, as the guy kept bitching in his ear about how Carol had ditched him tonight.

Something was sitting weird with him, and he kept licking at his upper lip — cleaning away sweat and the wetness left behind from the condensation clinging all over his ice cold beer. He was all tense and keyed up, too. And… jittery. It was the way he got right before he’d snap, some part of him chomping at the bit to go find someone to start a fight with, to drive his knuckles right into their face. Tommy, who was totally oblivious, kept on yapping and… honestly, if he didn’t get away from the guy then he was probably gonna end up Billy’s first victim.

“Tommy, why don’t you go get me another beer.” Billy cut his latest string of complaining off, and Tommy blinked a little at the… _clearly_ still half full beer can, currently held loosely in Billy’s left hand.

“Sure, man…” Tommy said slowly, getting up off the couch and heading for the kitchens. Billy wondered if that kid was ever going to find his own fucking spine, or if he was forever destined to leach the backbone off everyone else.

Billy didn’t even wait for Tommy to leave the room completely, before getting up from the couch and stalking out of the living room. He made a beeline for the outside, shoving roughly at whoever didn’t clear out of his way fast enough. The cool air of Hawkins at night felt good on his overheated skin, hitting him like a rush — waking him up out of the haze of alcohol he’d begun to slip into, jump starting his mind and sending him into overdrive.

He wasn’t sure if he was shaking from the cold or from the familiar rush that was hitting him. It was always like this, whenever he got a little too fucked up — the edge of panic that sunk into his lungs and made it hard to breathe, the crawling irritation that itched under his skin. He grit his teeth through it, eyes searching frantically through the few party-goers still milling around outside. None of them seemed like they were going to stay much longer, not with how the wind seemed to be picking up.

There were a few people he could justify getting into it with, that he could just — grab, and wheel them around, pop them one in the mouth and… no one would even question it. Like Peterson, who’d somehow thought it was a good idea to insinuate that Billy wasn’t playing up to his usual standards lately… that he’d been too distracted. And maybe he had, but he _still_ played better than these hick-town losers had ever seen. So he wasn’t just gonna take that shit.

Or Hanson, who had run his mouth over a week ago… telling everyone that Billy wasn’t even _good_ for it, that if he took a girl out he wouldn’t even fuck her. Which… it wasn’t the first time those rumors had started going around, but it was the first time it’d come from a face he could get away with rearranging.

And…

 _Harrington_.

He couldn’t help but grin when he spotted the guy from behind — it wasn’t as if Billy could mistake him for anyone else, what with the ridiculous hair and… he swallowed, tearing his eyes away from where they’d trailed lower. Steve was leaning against a tree and staring out into the woods, lit ever so slightly from below by the line of ground lights set into the hardscape patio. 

“Well look who decided to show up... I didn’t even realize you were still getting invited to these things.” Billy spit out, fighting to keep a leash on his own rage for now — he needed to _savor_ this.

Steve's shoulders jerked, his head turning just barely… and Billy probably would have missed it if he wasn’t hyper focused on every single line of Steve’s body. “I’m not in the mood, Hargrove.” Steve spoke like he was dismissing someone, like Billy wasn’t worth his time. 

Like _shit_ he wasn't…

Billy had his hands on Steve quick, fingers digging sharply into his bicep, tangling into the loose fabric between his shoulder blades and… hauling him back, pulling and shoving and easily putting him in his place. Steve choked out weak protests, his own hands finding purchase on Billy’s arms as he was wheeled around and shoved into the backside of the house.

“What the fuck—!” Steve winced, the air knocking out of his lungs in a sharp huff as he hit hard against the wall. “What’s your damage, man?!” 

Billy grinned, showing his teeth, pushing his tongue between them and making a sharp sucking sound. Steve’s face just twisted up in disgust, and he turned his head away — pressing his cheek into the siding and staring back towards the yard. Billy turned his head too, followed Steve’s gaze… he was pleased to find that they were completely out of sight, hidden by the corner of the house.

“Just seemed like maybe you need a reminder, how to show a little _respect_ …” As soon as the words had left Billy’s mouth, his stomach flipped and he felt ill. His head swam for a moment and he closed his eyes tight… willed himself back down to reality, grounded himself.

He tried to swallow down the sour taste in his mouth, the one that using the very words Neil used against _him_ brought up. When he opened his eyes again and turned back, Steve was staring at him. His breath fogging in the cold and hanging heavy in the air between them, his lips pulled tight in a frown. 

“Look, I don’t wanna fight you…” His response was soft, but not without that trademark Harrington superiority shining through, contempt sitting heavy under each word.

Billy had always hated the way Steve was just tall enough to look down on him. One more way that the guy had been born into being above him. It made him want to get Steve in the dirt even more… to drag the guy down to his level. Drag him through the very filth and shame that Billy was forced to live his life drowning in.

He got his hands on Steve’s shoulders and shoved hard, put all his weight into it and — Steve’s knees buckled, he went down so easily that it was almost a joke. Steve landed hard, a hiss of pain as he hit solid ground, but he stayed there… turned his chin up defiantly and glared through thick, dark lashes at Billy.

And Billy stepped back, just enough to take in all of Steve kneeling in front of him. He still felt wrong, like something _was_ wrong and… he should have just hit the guy, he should have just laid into him the same way he had over a year before. Gotten him all bloody and gasping for air and left his mark all over that perfect skin.

But now Steve was kneeling in front of him… watching Billy like he was waiting for the next move and — what the _hell_ was his next move? The reality of the situation was quickly sobering him, and he wanted nothing more than a strong drink to help numb all the uncomfortable thoughts that were swirling in his head.

Something must have shown on his face, because Steve’s expression flickered… confusion slipping in. A flush, hitting his skin suddenly, coloring rich and deep. His lips parted like he wanted to say something, one of his hands landing softly at Billy’s thigh… cautious, not demanding like Billy knows his own touch would have been.

The slow curl of Steve’s fingers against him spurred him into action again, had him shaking the hand off — had him collecting all the saliva that had been building up under his tongue at the sight of Steve on his knees, and spitting it down into his face.

Steve flinched, his reflexes working to turn his face so the glob hit against his cheek and rolled down slowly. Shock flickered through his expression for a second, before that same, defiant look replaced it — his eyes burning with something like hatred as he refocused his glare up at Billy. 

The air was thick with a silence that neither of them seemed to know how to fill, and before Billy could really understand why he was doing it, his hands were at the front of his pants. Undoing his belt, fighting back the urge to wince at how loud the clinking of metal sounded in the dead night — and then his button was flicked open easily, and the slide of his zipper followed.

He saw Steve shiver, saw those dark eyes flicker down to Billy’s open jeans... taking in the obvious lack of underwear, the flush on his face somehow deepening even further. And then he wet his lips, licked over them. And it was too much, Billy’s cock kicked, still trapped between his hip and the tight pressure of his jeans. Steve’s hands were fisted into his own thighs, pressing into them ever since Billy had rebuked his touch.

Billy wasn’t entirely sure what sick part of him was enjoying Steve on his knees, flushing and staring at the shape of his cock in his jeans but… it was a part that he was afraid of feeding, a part he’d been shoving down, down, _down_. He felt confronted by it now, by how Steve had managed to use a weapon against Billy that — he didn’t even know he held. It made Billy panicked… reckless. 

He knew he was a little unhinged as he stuffed his hand into his jeans, pulling his still half-soft cock free and running his thumb from the base to the tip… squeezing. Steve looked like he wanted to say something — looked like he wanted to move forwards and close the distance and… Billy couldn’t accept that, couldn’t let it happen.

So he grinned, showed his teeth... sharp and cruel and — stepped back, put just enough distance between them before adjusting his grip on himself and pushing through… a little ache hitting sharp inside of him right before a sense of relief flooded him.

He’d needed to take a piss since he’d spent nearly an hour swallowing down cheap beer, in a useless effort to make Tommy’s company passable for a good time. The feeling had been creeping up on him the entire time he’d been pushing his way into Steve’s space… tingling at his nerves, an urge for release laying just under the spite and anger that always took front and center in him.

The stream hit Steve’s face, and Billy felt a thrill coursing through him from seeing Steve flinch below him for the second time tonight. From seeing the twist of disgust on his face, the moment of horror right before his eyes screwed shut and his lips pressed tight together. Steve angled his face away, a low whine crawling up from the back of his throat and cracking like frustration.

Still, he knelt there. His expression pulled tight, still turned to offer a cheek for Billy and… he watched as his own piss rolled down Steve’s face, running down the front of his shirt and soaking it. Steve’s chest rising and falling with harsh breaths, steam clouding into the air around him from the warmth.

Arousal and relief mixed in an intoxicating way, and Billy felt his dick starting to stiffen up — making it harder to finish what he’d started. And that was… that was _wrong_ , this wasn’t supposed to be about the want he struggled to control… this was about Steve, putting him in his fucking _place_ and...

Billy grit his teeth against the sensation, swearing under his breath as the stream weakened for a moment, before completely giving out. He shook a final drop from the tip, before giving in and sliding his hand along the length of his now fully erect cock. He felt a little sore, a little desperate from the way he’d stopped mid-piss and — his hips kicked mindlessly, thrusting into the grip of his own hand.

Steve was breathing hard, piss dripping from his lashes and chin, the skin of his cheek red and irritated already. He seemed frozen like that for a moment, before finally jerking into action — swiping at his face with his sleeve to try and dry it… opening his eyes slowly, blinking them and focusing them on Billy.

And. Billy couldn’t help the way he groaned, seeing Steve looking at him like that. He’d expected rage, insults, protests and maybe even _fear_ but… he hadn’t been expecting that lust filled haze directed up at him. Like Steve just had his brains fucked out, like he was messy and pliant, dark eyes gazing up at Billy like he was pleading for more.

Lips parting around some word that was too soft to even hear, as Billy’s hand sped up — as he leaned forwards, and pressed a hand to the wall behind Steve as if he needed it's support to stay standing. He loomed over Steve now, and if he had any coherent thought left in his mind at this point, he probably would have reveled in that.

Instead he choked on a moan, his body tensing and, pleasure wracking through him as he came — he stared down, lids hooded as he watched his release splash over Steve’s face. Mixing with piss and spit, the final piece of the puzzle. The one that clicked everything together, that made everything make sense. The one that twisted his stomach and had him fighting off the urge to puke.

Steve’s mouth opened like he fucking wanted it, he stuck his tongue out and let a string of cum coat it. Billy couldn’t help but sigh in relief, and he couldn’t help the last dribble of piss that he could finally expel. Steve choked under him and, Billy huffed a laugh at the knowledge that Steve had just gotten some of that in his mouth.

Billy pushed away from the wall, stumbled back again and… stared at the mess he’d made. At the way Steve was shaking a little, the way he was rocking his hips and pressing the obvious bulge in his jeans into the ground — desperately searching for some kind of satisfying friction. Still he didn’t move his hands from where they were gripping tightly to his thighs, his legs still bent under him. 

Like he was waiting. For permission.

Billy grimaced, his lip curling into a sneer as he stuffed himself back into his jeans. “Billy…” Steve spoke, finally. After sitting there like such a good boy and taking whatever Billy gave him, he spoke. There was an edge of need to his voice, raw and vulnerable and… Billy couldn’t help but wonder what he’d sound like after sucking dick, he almost felt a little sad that he wasn’t going to find out.

“You look disgusting.” Billy cut him off, a confusing emotion tightening his gut at the way Steve’s face crumpled. The way that open vulnerability closed off, the pinch of his brows and the set of his frown that replaced it. Closed off and defensive — like a switch had been flicked. 

“Fuck you.” Steve bit out. The words felt a lot less sharp now, after Billy had watched that mouth open to take his load like a whore.

Billy just laughed, threw his head back and barked out into the cold night air. “From the King of Hawkins, all the way down to public toilet.” Steve flushed in embarrassment, and Billy thought he caught a prick of angry tears at the corner of his eyes. “If your loyal subjects could see you now…” Billy murmured, lifting his heel and pressing the toe of his boot firmly to the bulge in Steve’s jeans.

A whine bubbled up and out of the back of his throat, and Billy drank in the way he squirmed against the pressure. Billy pulled his boot back, ignoring the needy breath that Steve choked out, and grimaced.

“Jesus… you’re gonna reek.” He spit the words out, like it wasn’t his fault. Like Steve smelled like luke warm and fast cooling piss because of his own twisted mind, and not Billy’s.

He didn’t waste any time, didn’t hesitate or linger long enough to take in any more of the complicated expressions flickering over Steve’s face. He turned his back and walked away, left Steve keeling on the ground, left him keyed up and desperate for release. 

Didn’t look back, even when he heard the quick movements, the shuffle of fabric or the slide of a zipper, or the hiss of a relieved breath as Steve shoved his hand into his jeans and hurriedly began to work himself over.

There was no one left in the yard now, and that familiar sense of panic and fear set in as Billy wondered if anyone had _heard_ them.

Tommy was in his face the second he entered the house, smiling, a beer in his hand. Offering it. “Where you been, man?” The smile didn’t quite reach his ears, and Billy figured he was secretly pissed about the whole disappearing act.

“Nowhere.” Billy said, snatching the beer out of his hand and popping it open.

He drank the whole thing in one breath, crushed the empty can against Tommy’s chest, and told him to go fetch another one.

**Author's Note:**

> Steve *Is literally an inch taller than Billy*
> 
> Billy *This fucking asshole thinks hes better than me*
> 
> Catch me outside [@ Tumblr](https://shewritesdirty.tumblr.com/)


End file.
